Why I Took My 11-Month-Old To My Dad's Funeral

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I remember that at one point when I was young, I think I was 7 or 8, my parents told me I had to come to a funeral with them of some great auntie I didn’t know. The idea was that I could experience what a funeral was so that if someone close would pass away I would know what it would be like.

In the Netherlands for various reasons it’s not very common to take young children to funerals. Mainly it’s fear that it might be traumatic to be exposed to such a sad event but then there’s also more practical reasoning as well.

When my dad passed, my initial reaction was to arrange a babysitter for the day of the funeral. However, that first thought went away quite fast – why couldn’t he come? It was not only my dad – it was also his grandfather! The grandfather that was so proud of his grandson. The grandfather that when he got sicker and sicker and couldn’t move much anymore still tried to play games with him by hiding his face behind burpee cloths and by pulling toys away with all of the possible strength he had left in his body suffering from ALS. The grandfather that, especially during the last months, no matter how sick he was, got his little moments of joy by just watching his grandson play in front of him. The grandfather that almost drove off the road in his wheelchair laughing out loud because he couldn’t move his hands anymore but let his grandson manage the joystick. Shouldn’t that grandson that played such an important role in the last year of his life be at the goodbye ceremony?

When I was thinking more about it, I also realized that I didn’t agree at all with the reasoning of hiding little children from sad events. Life is not only sunshine and happiness, sad things happen every day (unfortunately we only have to put on the news to evidence that), and people around us die. But that is the reality of life. Why should we hide that from our kids? Will they be traumatized if we involve them to a certain extent in these events? I choose to believe they won’t. I actually think it will help in their development if from a very young age they see that these things happen and that yes, there are sad days but after sad days come beautiful days again.

That’s also the circle of life.

If they only see the happy things for the first years of their lives, how will they be able to deal with sad events when they get older? Because it’s inevitable that they will experience these at some point!

Obviously an 11-month-old doesn’t understand death and funerals but they do definitely feel it when their parents and other close relatives are very sad. So why not involve them in the events that make mom or dad so sad? Despite of not knowing it’s a goodbye forever, they can wave goodbye and give grandpa a big kiss during his last days, and with some help they can light a last candle for him together at the funeral.

As for the practical reasoning and not being able to sit calm for the 1.5 hour duration of the ceremony, if you´re prepared for that it’s fine. We arranged with my father in law that he would take over if the little guy would get a bit fuzzy and take him out so that I didn’t have to worry about that and could focus on my own grief. This arrangement worked out pretty well, he was there in the beginning of the ceremony, took a nap outside in his stroller and came back in the end.

Besides, I think my dad would have liked his grandson there bouncing on his favorite songs, waving goodbye and giving an occasional yell to grab the attention because that’s also what he liked most when he was still in his chair in the living room.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

death of a child funeral

Tineke Franssen

Tineke Franssen is a working mom abroad that is trying to keep her sanity amongst cultural clashes both at work and at home (Spanish parents in law anyone?). When she is not in the office or working through piles of laundry, you can find her drinking wines with friends, watching Grey´s Anatomy, playing fieldhockey or writing on her blog http://workingmommyabroad.com/

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

In: Grief

In his last years, Dad spent his days in a chair by the big picture window. From there, he could survey all the comings and goings of the ranch. He watched the weather, the dogs, and our Arabian stallion, Axum, galloping through the pines and calling to the mares across the hill. Occasionally, Dad would alert us that a certain dog had escaped or that a storm was coming in. He was looking out. He was keeping track. He needed help to move even a few steps. At night, my husband or I cleaned him, dressed him, and tucked him into...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

In: Grief

Young woman holding red umbrella walking next to canola field

Outside, the sky hung in a thick, dim slab, like a ceiling over the trees that stood crooked in the wind. Not the fresh spring breeze we’re used to in Florida, but the damp, cold kind that makes you pull your coat together with tight fists. I got there right on time, parked in a front spot in the almost-bare lot, and slid my violet boots with fluffy pom-poms onto the asphalt. I braced for the impact of the frigid air and tucked my body inward as I did a little hop-jog into the pub. Once inside, I let out...

Keep Reading

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

In: Grief, Loss

I lay in bed this morning, sweet boy. It is Saturday. Seven of them since you left. Half awake, I turned over and saw Grief staring right at me. She pounced then stood, haughty, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. She yelled that she would be close today. If she feels like it, she might even be relentless. She is cruel. You were the reason, sweet boy, for me to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. Actually, every morning you were my purpose from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment they shut. I knew on...

Keep Reading

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief

Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief

Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother. People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief

Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

Nickelodeon's First Animated Gay Couple Forces Us To Have Conversations With Our Children

Kids

Nickelodeon's First Animated Gay Couple Forces Us To Have Conversations With Our Children

Parents - Think Twice Before Posting Your Kids' Pictures On Facebook

Kids

Why I Took My 11-Month-Old To My Dad’s Funeral

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Tineke Franssen

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

Why I Took My 11-Month-Old To My Dad’s Funeral

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like